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After Six PM

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Stiles met Derek at the door, smiling softly when he saw how incredibly exhausted Derek looked. "Hey, babe," he murmured, sliding in close and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

The badge on Derek's chest dug in when Derek slumped against him, but Stiles didn't complain, just reached around him to nudge the door hard enough for it to latch shut. He'd worry about locking it later, after he'd had a chance to help Derek to bed.

The past few weeks had been a lot of long shifts while the supernaturally aware element of the BHSD tracked down and took care of a manticore that had somehow ended up in the preserve. And then, of course, had been the mountains of paperwork they'd needed to generate to cover it all up such that no snooping FBI agents ever had reason to question it.

So Stiles just led Derek to their first-floor bedroom and tilted them both sideways until they fell to the bed, bouncing slightly before settling. He shifted and tugged, pulling on Derek until he was laying somewhat normally on the bed; at least his head was on the pillow, anyway, and maybe that'd have to be good enough.

Stroking his fingers through Derek's hair, Stiles hummed an off-key tune until he felt Derek grow heavier in his arms, and then he continued for just a minute longer because he loved this. He loved having Derek like this, so trusting and open, relaxed enough to fall asleep and let Stiles watch his back. And maybe it shouldn't still be like that, not after a year of living together, but Derek and Stiles had been through too much for Stiles to ever take this for granted.

When the weight of Derek's shoulder digging into his bicep started to make his hand go numb, Stiles eased out from beneath him and slowly got off the bed. He stopped a moment, taking in the sight of Derek in his deputy's uniform — another thing that would never grow old — before bending and gently removing first Derek's boots, then his pants, and finally, with some creative maneuvering, his shirt. When he was down to just his undershirt and deliciously tight boxer briefs, Stiles grabbed a fleece blanket and draped it over Derek before backing out of the room and shutting the door.

Three hours later, the scent of a roast filled the house, and though it still had two hours to finish cooking, Stiles eased open the door to the bedroom and slid back onto the bed with Derek, tucking himself up under the blanket and wrapping himself around Derek's bulk. Pressing his face into Derek's back, Stiles gently sucked a kiss there, then another and another until he was straddling Derek's waist, his hands unconsciously massaging tight muscles as he dropped kisses along the back of Derek's neck.

"Mmm," Derek murmured, finally stirring beneath Stiles. His hips hitched backward in a languid sort of interest and he turned his head so Stiles could see the lazy curve of his lips where they lifted in a sleepy smile. "Good morning."

Stiles huffed a laugh, sliding his cheek along Derek's until he could lick the corner of his mouth. "It's past six pm, Deputy Hale. Your investigative skills need work."

"Shut up. I just woke up. That makes it morning."

"Aww, poor baby. Well, if you promise to wake up now and come eat dinner with me, we'll watch a few Disney movies on Netflix and go back to bed in four hours or so. How's that sound?"

Rocking his hips backward again, Derek made a low humming noise and sighed. "I think I still need convincing."

Stiles scratched his blunt fingernails down the length of Derek's back before twisting to pinch his ass cheeks. "Convincing, eh? Yeah, I think I'm up to the task."

Derek groaned at the craptastic pun, but pressed his ass into Stiles' hands anyway. "Sorry we haven't—"

"No, shut up. You don't get to apologize for doing your job, okay? Especially when your job includes protecting my dad. You've been working damn near around the clock for weeks. I'm not going to bitch at you about that. I know how it is. You never have to worry about me. If nothing else, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Stiles pushed up the bottom of Derek's thin, white undershirt, rucking it up to just below his shoulders and then began to place random bites all along the pale skin. As he moved down Derek's body, he let instinct take over, let his fingers bite into Derek's flesh, let his teeth press down until Derek was hissing and shifting under him, his muscles flexing and bunching as his hips began rocking against the mattress.

"Stiles..."

The way Derek moaned his name went right to Stiles' dick, and he left off marking Derek up long enough to press his forehead to the top of Derek's ass, taking a moment to collect himself before he lost control completely. But that breath was a mistake, because this close, he could smell the musk of Derek's natural scent and it… It made his head go a little fuzzy as his blood all rushed south.

It was the work of seconds to strip Derek out of his underwear, and Stiles' own clothing was scattered to the four corners of the room in his haste to get skin on skin. Then he was back, sliding his tongue over Derek's ass, running the tips of his fingers through the hair that grew thick and dark on his thighs. Gripping them, he pushed Derek's legs apart, settling himself between them as he ducked his head, straining to reach the balls that lay heavy and full with his mouth. A sharp whimper cut through the air when his tongue lapped at the thin skin, and Derek pushed up, digging his knees into the bed until his ass was thrust high, his entire body a blatant offering.

Stiles let out a shuddering breath, watching Derek's ass as the skin pebbled under the stream of air. He slid one hand between Derek's thighs and weighed his balls, cupping them gently as his fingertips tickled the base of Derek's cock. It was already swollen with need, thick at the root and hot to the touch. Stiles murmured a soothing sound, letting go of his hold on Derek's balls to reach further, to wrap his hand around Derek's cock and give it a few languid strokes.

"Stiles, I need…"

"Shh, baby, I've got you. Let me take care of you," Stiles murmured, though the words muffled, spoken as they were into the skin of Derek's ass. But Derek relaxed under him, and Stiles knew he'd heard.

Stretching, Stiles reached up beneath his pillow, snagging the tube of lube they took to keeping there — the bedside drawer was usually frustratingly far when they needed it — and letting go of Derek's dick long enough to smear a glob of lube on his fingers. Rubbing them together, he heated up the lube and then pressed the pad of his thumb to Derek's hole, massaging the rim until it flexed against him, almost kissing his finger. He smiled at the sensation, then shifted and pushed harder, pressing his thumb right up inside Derek.

They both moaned then.

Stiles took his time, spent so long fingering Derek that he was letting out little bitten-off whines into his pillow, his body rocking back and forth, riding Stiles' fingers. And still Stiles played, stroking Derek from the inside while licking and biting over his ass and thighs. The dual stimulation had Derek shaking under him, little tremors that skated over his skin and through his muscles.

"Stiles!" Derek's shoulders hitched as his breathing grew ragged. "Need you. Want to feel you. Please."

"Fuck. Yeah, okay." And even knowing he was about to fuck into Derek's perfect ass, it still broke him a little when he slid his fingers free. He wasted barely a second slapping lube onto his dick before lining up and edging forward.

It had been a little while since they'd had time for anything more than blowjobs; mindful of that, Stiles kept his first few strokes shallow and slow until Derek was rocking back to meet him. Then he sped up, went harder and deeper, fingers digging into Derek's hips and pulling him back into Stiles' thrusts, punching noises out of them both with every ringing slap of skin.

It didn't take long after that. It never did; they were far too caught up in the pleasure of each other still.

Stiles could feel the orgasm building under his skin, drawing in to the center of his body. Reaching under Derek, he gave him a few tugs until Derek's entire back bowed under the force of his climax, his come bursting hot and thick over Stiles' fingers. Stiles brought his hand to his mouth, licking it clean, and let himself go. He hunched against Derek's ass, rutting into him more than thrusting, the muscular contractions around his dick too good to pull away from. The taste, scent, and feel of Derek combined to push Stiles over the edge he'd been teetering on for long seconds. With a loud shout, he slammed into Derek one last time, his dick pulsing, emptying into Derek's ass.

They fell to the bed together in a jumble of limbs, Stiles starfished out on top of Derek. They lay like that for long minutes before a low rumbling sound made Stiles grin lazily and pull out. Smacking Derek's ass, he leaned over and whispered, "If you tell me how much you love me, I'll bring you breakfast in bed."

"It's after six pm. 'S not breakfast anymore," Derek mumbled into the pillow.

"Hmm, yeah, but dinner in bed just doesn't have the same ring to it."

"Shut up and fetch me my food." Then, his voice soft, he added, "And I do, you know."

Pressing one last kiss to the back of Derek's neck, Stiles whispered back, "I know. I love you too."